


Deal Gone Wrong

by radishleaf



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: (light on both elements since i can't write bdsm to save my life), (once again only with my apprentice; it doesn't affect lucio), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Hand Jobs, Light BDSM, M/M, Makeup Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Power Play, Pre-Canon, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-15
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2020-12-17 00:11:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21045092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/radishleaf/pseuds/radishleaf
Summary: Lucio tests Ezra's trust in him by offering a foolish deal, but it goes awry when the magician discovers his scheme.





	Deal Gone Wrong

**Author's Note:**

> as a birthday gift to myself, i decided to write this dumb pwp! woo! 'to earn the right' is definitely my favorite out of all of the fics i've written for ezra, so i touched upon the same elements in this one.
> 
> speaking of all of the fics i've written for ezra, i'd like to thank each and every one of you who has read my apprentice's fics thus far. i know they're all smut with little plot substance, but it appears that's what i'm best at writing LOL. 
> 
> as always, kindly disregard any grammatical errors, punctuation mistakes, and the like. i tried to be thorough. enjooooy.

Hemmick’s arms bulged from the effort required of them as he hefted the cask through the flaps of the tent; feet scuttling hastily as if quick to gain purchase with each step. Bates hovered before him as a form of watchful leverage. Even if strong, he was still clumsy about the middle, and clumsier still on his own two feet. A fall would damage Hemmick more than the cask.

Hemmick dumped the cask down in front of Ezra before withdrawing; Bates replacing him with a crowbar in hand to pry the lid off. With a creaky snap, the lid gave, revealing the contents within: it was brimming with gold ingots. Ezra hummed in thought as he picked one up to inspect it. The weighty hunk was crudely smelted as evidenced by its warped shape—proof it was illegal. Still, he expected nothing less from Lucio, and put the ingot down before going to sit across from the mercenary.

Hemmick and Bates lingered off to the side as if waiting instruction, but Ezra knew it was from concern; the two didn’t trust Lucio—not one bit. Though he had cultivated an amicable “working relationship” with the mercenary (more physical than business-like), and he had given word to his two most trusted henchmen to at least tolerate his presence, Hemmick and Bates deigned to leave Ezra alone with him. They both figured, if left to their own devices, the sellsword would be gutting their boss dead.

_Not that I would ever give him the chance_, Ezra thought.

“You don’t need help with anything else, boss?” Hemmick piped up next to Bates, earning him an elbow in his side. “B-Bates here wanted to know.”

“Yea, boss, anything at all? We’re here for ya,” Bates said.

Ezra shook a dismissive hand. “No, that’s all. Thank you for your help, both of you.”

“But boss—”

He leveled a plaintive look at the duo. “You can leave. I would like to discuss my matters with Montag—”

“But—”

“_Alone_.”

The terse cut of the word immediately had Hemmick scuttling out of the tent, but Bates remained, unperturbed. His hand hovered behind his back, which Ezra was aware he kept a dagger hidden for safety reasons. With a flourish quicker than lightning, he knew Bates could have it lodged in Lucio’s neck, but he wouldn’t do so without instruction. While Hemmick was his muscle, Bates was his guard; a wonderous pair, and loyal, but much to Ezra’s chagrin, too protective.

“Your eagerness to please has always been admirable, Bates,” Ezra commented. “If you really wish to do one last thing for me, then please”—he motioned to a shelf on the man’s right—“give me the purple tin on the second shelf. Then you may go.”

Despite his reluctance, Bates did as he was told. He slowly backstepped toward the shelf, refusing to show his back. When his patting hand touched the tin, he scooped it up and tossed it to Ezra, which he caught smoothly. Which an exchanged nod, Bates then exited the tent, though Ezra was aware he remained outside it; not within earshot to listen in on his dealings with Lucio, but close enough to be the first inside at any hint of danger.

“Couple of loyal dogs you got there,” Lucio said, hooking a thumb in the direction where Hemmick and Bates once stood. “It’s like they didn’t want to leave your side at all.”

“They’re a good pair of men,” Ezra said as he popped the lid of the tin open. “You could learn a thing or two from their loyalty, Montag.”

Lucio quirked a brow. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked, but his question went breezily ignored.

Ezra shook a palmful of leaves into his hand before pouring them into the small teapot on the table separating him from Lucio. Then, with two taps of his forefinger to the lid and an audible pop, steam began to billow from the stout. Lucio watched with slight fascination as Ezra poured a serving of tea and pushed it to him before doing so for himself. The mercenary eyed it; it was a light lavender unlike any tea he'd ever seen, wafting upward with a spicy, almost cinnamon scent.

“Drink up, Montag. Before it gets cold,” Ezra said.

Lucio twisted up his lip. “Hot leaf water isn’t really my thing,” he said. “Don’t you have anything stronger? Say… alcoholic?”

“We’re going to discuss a business deal, Montag, not party the night away.” Ezra punctuated this by taking a sip of his tea. “Drink.”

Lucio rolled his eyes, but did as he was told by draining his teacup in one fell swoop and slamming the it back down onto its saucer. Ezra’s brows rose, but he said nothing on the matter as he settled his own down with a light clink.

“Well, that’s one way to do things,” he said. “Regardless, explain to me again what it is you brought me here today.”

“What? Was the message I sent your way not clear enough?”

“If that poor excuse for handwriting was legible, I wouldn’t be asking.”

Lucio huffed. “Already sassing me at the onset, huh? Whatever. That there, Ezra, is Drakrian gold—purest, most refined gold in all of the world.” He spread his arms theatrically. “The stuff spoken of in legends, sought after by every pot-bellied king with a crown on his head. And now I’m bringing it to you for a bargain.”

Ezra hummed thoughtfully. “Stolen, I presume?” 

“_Duh_, but what does that matter to a thief?”

“Touché, though I am curious as to where _you_ got it from.”

Lucio slumped back in his seat, casting his glance aside. “Erm, well, it’s not _really_ mine. I’m working for someone since coin has been a little, uh, sparse as of late.”

“Someone I know?”

“Probably, since you get around so much,” Lucio said. Ezra couldn’t help an amused grin at his words. “She’s a banshee of a woman. Easy on the eyes, but hollers over every little thing. Her name’s Talitha, ever heard of her?”

“Mm, yes. I’ve heard of her. Haven’t met her formally, but she’s the one with the encampment at Miroslava’s Pass, yes?”

“Yep.”

“So, you come at her behest to do business? You must be quite desperate, Montag.”

Lucio rolled his eyes. “I didn’t _want_ to, but she’s giving me a damn good commission, Ezra. Cut me some slack.”

“But what makes you think I want to buy all that gold?”

“Oh, c’mon! Why wouldn’t you? Didn’t you hear what I had to say about it? Besides…” Lucio leaned into hand, eying Ezra suggestively. “You were the first one I thought about selling it to. Wanted to you to turn over a good profit.”

Ezra gave him a hooded look. “Remember what I said, Montag. This is a business deal—flattery will get you nowhere.”

Lucio harrumphed. “It should since you’ll be raking in the profits if you sell all that gold off. You’d have enough to care for your great-great-_great_ grandchildren! Maybe even generations after!”

“That _does_ sound promising,” Ezra said. “What’s your asking price?”

“A measly hundred grand in Vesuvian coin. Not too much to ask for, eh?”

Ezra winced. “That’s still a little steep, Montag.”

Lucio waved a dismissive hand. “Pocket change to what you can turn over if you sell all of that Drakrian gold, Ezra. People are _vying_ for it, it shouldn’t be too hard to sell.”

“Hm, then if that is true, I’ll consider your offer.”

“Really?” Lucio suddenly felt giddy. Never before had Ezra agreed to _anything_ he asked of him so readily. Yet, he couldn’t find the energy to celebrate; instead, he slumped a little more into his hand. “T-that’s a first for you, Ezra…”

Ezra reached forward and took another sip of his tea. “There’s a first time for everything, Montag,” he said. “But before we begin discussing how this exchange might go, please answer me one question.”

Lucio’s eyelids suddenly felt heavy, so he fluttered them to keep them open. Yet, he still sagged in his seat. “W-what?”

When the magician placed down his teacup again, his face grew steely with a glare. “Did you really take me for such a fool, Montag?” Ezra said, his tone laced with venom. “You’ve some nerve testing my patience like that.”

Lucio’s mouth gaped to ask Ezra what he meant, but his tongue only lolled about in his mouth, denying him the words. It wouldn’t have mattered, as in the next instant, his thoughts stymied, clouded over by an unplaceable need to sleep. His consciousness slowly sank just as his body did into his seat; head dropping flat against the backrest as a nasally snore ripped from him.

Ezra shook his head as he rose to study the man. Admittedly, he’d grown soft when it came to Lucio; they’re frequent run-ins with each other slowly unwound the aloof coldness coiled about the magician’s heart. He thought he only held affection for his fellow thieves, the Luminaries, but that was tested against the mercenary who satisfied him once only bodily, but also in mind and soul.

“You truly are an idiot, Montag,” Ezra said as he rose a hand and cupped Lucio’s cheek, thumbing the faded scar just under his eye—a remnant of their first encounter together. “Just when I was beginning to like you, you go and pull a stunt like this. For shame.”

Turning away from him, Ezra’s voice rose in the direction of the tent flaps. “Hemmick? Bates? Are you there?” he called. “I need some help. Also, bring some rope with you. I’m going to need it.”

* * *

The familiarity of the moment immediately made his stomach drop. There was nothing Lucio detested more than being reminded of his first shame when it came to one Ezra Locke. Yet, the stuffy feeling in his head as if it were filled with cotton, the bite of rope about his wrists, the stiff support of the beam he was secured to, and the displeased look leveled his way echoed everything back to his first encounter with the magician.

The only difference was his total lack of energy; fight surged up within him quick the first time, but now, Lucio still felt he swam the precipice between consciousness and dream. It was a sharp cuff across the cheek that boggled Lucio’s mind to the former. Grunting in pain, his eyes widened to take in Ezra looming above him in his seat. The magician flexed his fingers after delivering his slap, making Lucio flinch as he expected another, but the chair creaked as Ezra settled back.

Swallowing thickly, Lucio managed, “W-what… the hell… Ezra? What is this?”

“If it wasn’t clear to you, you were put to sleep.”

“With what—” The answer dawned on Lucio like afternoon sun. “The tea.”

“Yes. You guzzled it down in one gulp, so it worked faster than intended.”

“What the… But you drank it, too. Why weren’t you affected?”

“You learn to build a tolerance if you drink it occasionally. It was a favorite of mine until it stopped helping me sleep at night.”

Lucio swallowed. “Oh. B-but why?”

“That should be my question.”

“What… What’re you talking about?”

Ezra sighed. “Don’t act clueless now, Montag. Not when you’ve no option to escape.”

“I don’t—”

Lucio knew it struck a nerve in Ezra for him to feign cluelessness. His already strained patience snapped when the magician launched to his feet and approached the cask from earlier. Ezra reached in and produced a gold ingot that Lucio’s eyes pinned to as sweat began to bead across his brow and upper lip. The very fact Ezra figured him out had him weary, but it paled in comparison to the fear stirring within him for what came next.

Ezra strode back to the chair and sat down, holding the gold ingot out to Lucio. “You might be able to fool a true idiot with this parlor trick,” he said, “but not a seasoned magician such as I.”

Ezra’s hand began to glow a bright blue as he squeezed the gold ingot within his fingers. For a beat, it remained intact, but in the next instance it burst in a spray of chunky black clod. Ezra kneaded it in his hand before tossing the crumbled remnants in Lucio’s face, making the mercenary cough and sputter as it hit his nostrils and agape mouth. Ezra would show him no mercy, violently grabbing his chin and jerking him forward again. Lucio suddenly felt small before Ezra’s fury; for a man who he thought so composed, it was downright terrifying seeing him angry.

“I-I’m sorry, Ezra! I didn’t know, I-I mean it! Talitha must’ve—”

“Hold your tongue before I bite it off,” Ezra snarled. “I’m well-acquainted with your ways. I know you were hoping to sell off that heap of dirt to me just to turn a profit. It might’ve been Talitha’s idea, but you were the mediator.”

“I-I—”

“What do you have to say for yourself, Montag?”

Lucio was no coward. At least, he thought he wasn’t. Yet, stripped of any means to defend himself—ego included—and he was reduced to a trembling mess that had no choice but to own up to his mistakes. There was fight within him, and he would’ve hid behind it out of bravado, but he was certain Ezra would kill him if he continued to test his patience. He had no other option but to confess, he concluded.

Unable to look Ezra in the eye, Lucio said, “For fuck’s sake, fine! Fine, Ezra, _fine_. Yes, I was going to sell you some shitty ingots to turn an easy profit. Sue me for thinking it’d work—Talitha told me that glamor was strong enough to fool even a master magician, but I guess she was wrong.”

“Quite wrong.”

Lucio sighed. “Look, if this going to, like, get in the way of future dealings with you, I’d just like to reiterate that it was Talitha’s idea. I was just carrying it out.”

“You’re just as much to blame.”

“_What?_ No! Now you’re just being unfair, Ezra!”

“The only one unfair is _you_, Montag,” Ezra said. “I trusted you.”

Lucio’s eyes were as wide as saucers. “You… trusted me?” he said.

“Mm, nominally. I trusted you _not_ to betray me, but it seemed even that was too generous of a thought.”

Lucio hung his head, ashamed. “I fucked up this time, didn’t I?”

“Mhm.”

Lucio muttered a few choices words under his breath that Ezra wasn’t privy to. Not that he wanted to be—he was sure he was included in that minor rant. The magician waited patiently, hands folded in his lap, until Lucio was through with damning what appeared to be his entire existence. When he looked up to Ezra again, it was with some untapped, newfound confidence. It confused Ezra an iota until the mercenary pleaded his case.

“If you’re going to punish me or something, then just do it,” Lucio said. There was an alien finality to his voice that upset Ezra; wasn’t he one known to fight? “Then once you’re satisfied, can we go back to being chummy? I don’t want to fuck up what I have with you more.”

Surprisingly, Ezra was touched by the notion of his words. It was probably the closest thing to humbleness the mercenary knew, even if it extended from his own inane self-interest and not Ezra’s own feelings. It was likely all he ever knew, it seemed.

_An extension of his boyishness, _Ezra thought as he shifted in his seat; the wood creaking with the movement. _He really is just a child in a man’s body_.

Even if he had a slew of punishment ideas in his mind (Ezra was never one to lapse creatively), he instead turned the option to Lucio. “If you’re so adamant to right your wrongs, Montag, what would you have me do?”

This certainly caught the mercenary off-guard. “W-what?”

“I’m giving you what most prisoners are never given: True autonomous decision over the punishment you deserve. So, what would you have me do?”

Dark brows furrowed as Lucio tried, and failed, to determine the underlying twist to Ezra’s words. “You… mean that?” he asked. “I can ask for any punishment? Any at all?”

“Within reason, of course,” Ezra said, wagging a finger. “Asking for me to let you go or reward you with coin is beyond reason. It must be a just punishment for your unjust betrayal.”

“Then I won’t run, but you can start with letting me go from these ropes.”

Ezra tut-tutted him. “I can’t do that either, Montag.”

“And why not!”

“It precludes the very idea of punishment. You must know your position as my prisoner, including—but not limited to—being bound as one.”

“T-then, uh…” A tinge of red heated Lucio’s pale cheeks as he looked aside, drawing a curious look to Ezra’s face. “Then, if I have a choice, t-the first time…”

Ezra tilted his head. “First time?”

Despite the bashful edge to his expression, Lucio was steadfast in his response, “P-punish me like the first time we met. You know what I mean.”

Ezra blinked at him before his head tipped back and he gave a barking laugh. Lucio looked on, confounded and confused, as the magician failed to compose himself for the next few minutes. When Ezra managed to gather his bearings, wiping away a tear with a chortle here or there escaping him, Lucio was honored with one of his rare smiles. Whether it was from his reply or what he desired was difficult to discern, however.

“You’re too cute, Montag,” Ezra said. “Too, too cute. You know a punishment isn’t supposed to be pleasurable, yes?”

“W-well, it wasn’t for me! It was absolutely _humiliating_, Ezra!”

The magician hummed as he leaned forward, running a finger along Lucio’s jaw. “But you enjoyed it, didn’t you?”

Lucio swallowed thickly. “I’m not going to answer that.”

“And why not?”

“Because you already know what it is.”

Ezra chuckled. “You’re correct, I do. But we find ourselves at an impasse, Montag: I don’t think your punishment is a punishment, while you think it is. What do we do?”

Lucio pursed his lips, seemingly pouting. “Does it really matter what I say?” he said. “You’re the one who’s going to make the final decision, so you decide.”

It was completely uncharacteristic of Lucio to give in so readily, but it had Ezra amused, nonetheless. It was a rare side to him the magician encountered only a handful of times, provoking a desire to toy with him. Instead of retorting him yet again, Ezra leaned forward and caught Lucio’s lips with his just as the mercenary’s attention quirked to his presence. He drew in a sharp breath that seemed to catch in his throat as Ezra kissed with him earnestness. His head tilted flush to the beam to negotiate the height difference between him and magician, rising further even as Ezra pulled back.

When they parted, Lucio found himself dazed, as if Ezra sapped all energy from him. Ezra’s chuckle at Lucio’s reaction rumbled through him, hitting him at his core. The mercenary hadn’t a chance to voice his dissatisfaction from being laughed at as Ezra’s hands roamed over him; loosening the belts about his middle and pushing his shirt flush from his chest. Worrying his bottom lip between teeth, Lucio choked back any following complaints as Ezra slid his fingers down the expanse of his chest, paying close attention to the mercenary’s lower abdomen.

“I find it oh so very curious,” Ezra said, his voice low and teasing, “that a man with so much fight in him loses it all when bound.”

Lucio hissed between teeth when Ezra ran a finger along the waistband of his trousers, making his hips buck. “If you were anyone else, I would put up a fight,” he said. “It’s only_, mm_, only you whose advances I’m weak to.”

“Oh?” Ezra rose his brows. “Is that something you should be admitting, Montag?”

“_Hah_, no. It’s not, b-but let me regret it later.”

“Oh, Montag,” Ezra breathed right beside his ear. “You will regret it.”

Ezra nosed the small bit of skin beneath Lucio’s ear before trailing kisses down to his neck. In tandem, his fingers ghosted lower to the mercenary’s loins, carefully prying the slit of his fly apart. Lucio gave a throaty groan as the magician’s fingers ghosted over his cock before slowly working him to hardness. In tandem, Ezra caught the skin of his neck between lips, and pulled enough to mar the paleness with a stark red mark.

The small sting of being marked along with Ezra’s steady machinations almost has Lucio coming then and there. He held himself back through sheer will alone; his bound hands squeezed to tight fists as his being completely focused on the velvety sensation of Ezra’s callused palm about him, moving sinuously. However, when Ezra began to pump his hand, Lucio could hold himself back no more. His legs quaked as he orgasmed, marked by a guttural groan as several spurts of white spilled over Ezra’s fingers.

The magician hummed approvingly as he withdrew, wiping his hand clean with a handkerchief pulled from his pocket. “That was the longest you’ve lasted yet, Montag,” Ezra said. “With my hand, anyway.”

Lucio panted as he settled into the discomfort of the fresh sheen of sweat on his skin. He suddenly wanted to rant, spew his frustrations at Ezra for his absolute lack of control of the situation, but he denied himself the prospect. Though Lucio wouldn’t admit it, there was something relieving relinquishing himself to another—sex-wise, anyway.

Ezra took his silence in stride, instead using the moment to undress himself. It was always a delight to see the magician naked; Lucio’s cock was already half-mast upon seeing skin. When Ezra lowered himself to the mercenary again, it was to clamber onto his lap. Lucio accepted the close proximity gratefully; peppering kisses along Ezra’s neck and chest in substitution of what his hands were denied.

The magician chuckled once more, prying Lucio’s lips from his skin to tip his head up. “Your desperation is surely something, Montag,” he said against his lips.

“It’s punishment itself,” Lucio replied, “being unable to touch you with my own two hands.”

Ezra gave him a cheeky grin. “Then your idea wasn’t a bad suggestion after all,” he said wryly.

The magician keened against Lucio after coating his fingers in oil and gently working them in himself. The slide of him against Lucio’s slick skin flared a heat in his belly; he angled himself to feel all that he could as he teethed Ezra’s throat. Ezra swallowed thickly before kissing him; a long, drawn out, passionate kiss that swallowed the moans he gave as he sought that small pleasurable spot within himself.

Lucio didn’t need to be touched again when Ezra pulled back, the magician could feel the hard press of his cock against his thigh. Though he didn’t completely prepare himself, Ezra angled Lucio’s cock near his rear and pushed down. A gratifying moan escaped the both of them once the head of Lucio’s cock pushed passed the ring of resistance. Despite the tenacious pain, Ezra forced himself down, further still, until he accepted Lucio’s everything into him.

“H-holy, _fuck_,” Lucio breathed upon entering Ezra in one fell swoop. “E-Ezra, _mmn_, Ezra…”

“Has your resolved crumbled that quickly?” Ezra said, grinning down at him. Whether he held back his own pleasure from sheer tenacity or surprising forbearance was difficult to discern. It, like so many things about the magician, confused Lucio. “First my hand, now this? I dare say I think you are fond of being bound during sex, Montag.”

Despite his previous honesty, Lucio refused him the satisfaction of agreeing again this time. “I-if, _mm_, you’re going to move, just move,” he hissed.

“Now, now, Montag,” Ezra tut-tutted despite doing as he was told, grinding his hips low enough where his knees hit the floor. Lucio dissolved into a babbling, egging mess. “You’re in no position to be making demands.”

The more Ezra moved, the more the space between Lucio and him became negligible as he ground himself down slow and deep. There was no in-between when it came to the magician; sex was either something wild and ravishing or something so intimate and passionate, it shouldn’t exist between two, essentially, acquaintances. Yet, Lucio hadn’t a moment to consider the whys or hows of this conundrum; his sensibilities were already dashed against the carpeted floor of the tent.

Lucio’s eyes squeezed shut as he sagged against the support beam. “E-Ezra, I, _ungh_, I-I—”

Ezra crushed a kiss to him, pulling back just enough to say, “If you’re, _mn_, going to come, go ahead, Montag.”

Release was sweet and glorious; the pent-up pressure of his lower regions taking the last remaining vestiges out of Lucio as he came in Ezra. The magician trembled from the sheer force of it, clamping an arm and legs around the mercenary as he rode out his own orgasm from his own pumping hand. Lucio’s head was far away as he settled into the post-coital afterglow, but somewhere in the midst of it all, he recalled Ezra kissing him yet again and him rising slightly to meet those lips.

In the warm glow of a candlelit backroom that Lucio thought too warm, Ezra seemed haloed by the light. Catching the shine of his pearly grin, he said as he carded fingers through Lucio’s flaxen locks, “Good boy.”

Oh, how he deigned to be told such childish praise, but gratification welled up within Lucio all the same. His cheeks burned with a mixture of shame and delight that once again had the magician chuckling. Unable to protest, Lucio could only rise up to those lips once more and kiss Ezra before he said anything. For now, for the moment, the mercenary wanted to enjoy what he had. Even if the deal had gone wrong, the punishment had gone _right_, and that was more than enough for him.


End file.
